


When You Trip the Light Fantastic

by theravenwrites



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theravenwrites/pseuds/theravenwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the annual Summer Procession, Merlin and Arthur join a Faerie Ring, and then things get really weird. Not set during any particular season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Trip the Light Fantastic

Arthur stared at the girl, more than a little helplessly. Large tears were rolling down her face and she was visibly crumbling before his eyes. They were frozen in a damning tableau, Arthur half-risen from his chair, the girl before him, her trembling arm outstretched to hold the pieces of the pitcher suspended just above the floor.

The girl gasped in a breath and attempted to speak. “I’m—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just wanted to—to do something nice.” On the word nice, her voice broke and she began to sob in earnest. This made her lose her concentration, and the pitcher crashed back into pieces on the floor.

Arthur still hadn’t moved. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to do. This girl could not be more than thirteen years, just beginning to grow into her beauty, and she had smiled at him so sweetly, a little nervous at serving the Prince, when she came into the room to bring him his evening meal. 

Actually, he’d thought her unusually flustered, but put it down to her having a crush on him. He didn’t mean to brag, but it was a fairly common occurrence. If she hadn’t been much too young for him, and if things hadn’t been as confused as they were, he might have taken advantage of it. He’d done it in the past.

When she had set the tray down and lifted the pitcher to pour his wine, it must have been heavier than she expected and it slipped from her slightly shaking hand. As if acting on pure instinct, she had reached out to catch the pitcher, just a second too late. The wine spread out below as the fragments floated, almost still in the shape of the pitcher.

Clearing his throat, Arthur assumed his princely manner, pulling on his dignity and honor smoothly. The girl collapsed in on herself, crouching on her haunches, her dress soaking up the wine as she shook and cried. Arthur placed his hand on her shoulder, ignoring her flinch and the completely frightened look she sent him through lashes clumped together by tears.

“It is clear to me that this was an accidental use of magic,” he began, not sure where he was going, but something inside him revolted at the idea of condemning this innocent.

“Yes, yes, accident,” the girl cut in, nodding fervently, entreatingly.

“I don’t want to tell anyone else about this,” and here the girl almost smiled, “but I need to be certain that this is the only magic you’ve done.”

The girl’s face was as clear as the finest glass. The small uplifting at the corners of her mouth slipped and she blinked rapidly as she tried to keep looking him in the eyes. Arthur groaned inwardly and prepared himself for a more in-depth questioning than he’d originally thought.

With a hand cupping her elbow, Arthur helped her move into the chair opposite the one he occupied. Settling back, Arthur considered the girl, who was perched on the edge of her seat, hands twisting around each other, eyes flickering around the room. At least she’d stopped crying, although now she looked as if she could die of terror.

“What’s your name?” 

“Lisette, sire.”

“Very well, Lisette, how long have you worked here?”

“This is my father’s inn, sire. I’ve helped ever since I could walk.”

“And how long have you been practicing magic?” Arthur pinned her with his gaze, wanting her to know that he would see through any lie.

After a long pause, her words were quiet and breathy, and the upturn of her voice at the end of her sentence turned it into a question. “All my life?”

Arthur was a little surprised in spite of himself. “All your life?”

“I—I can’t help it, sire. I’ve always had magic. My parents, they tried to make it stop, but I can’t get rid of it.”

Silence filled the room as Arthur mulled this information over. He didn’t know much about magic, a side effect of having it be forbidden his entire life. He knew that when his life was in danger, magic was almost always the culprit, but whether or not magic was just a skill that anyone could pick up, or if it required a more natural talent, he had no idea. Maybe some people were simply better than others, like he was a better swordsman than anyone he knew.

“What magics have you done?”

“Uh…” Lisette appeared to think hard. “Do you want me to list everything I’ve ever done, sire?”

Huffing out a breath, Arthur responded, a touch irately, “No, just the biggest and most dangerous.”

“Well,” Lisette began as the door opened and Merlin entered, his cheerful expression falling off his face as he took in the scene of Arthur and Lisette sitting at the table, the wine and pitcher still making a mess on the floor.

Twisted in his chair to look at Merlin over his shoulder, and ignoring the way his cheeks wanted to heat up at the sight of his manservant, Arthur said sharply, “Merlin, shut the door.”

Merlin did so, walking cautiously further into the room, clearly confused by the situation. He tried to make a joke. “A little young for you, Arthur, don’t you think?”

“Now is not the time, Merlin. Lisette here is a witch, and I’m holding an impromptu hearing.”

Merlin froze awkwardly, in the middle of a step, the slight grin on his face taking on a sick quality. “What? Right here? Don’t you think that’s a little… I don’t know, rash, somehow?”

Frowning, Arthur replied, “I have reason to believe that Lisette may be doing magic purely on accident, and if that is the case, I don’t want to have her brought before my father.” 

At the mention of Uther, Lisette paled even more and swayed in her chair.

“Okay,” Merlin said, pulling the third chair around the table and collapsing into it, his fingers automatically going to play with his kerchief. Lisette managed to give him a scandalized look at his highly improper behavior in front of his Prince despite her fear. “What happened?”

Arthur stared at the mess on the floor, then at Merlin, meaningfully. “Why don’t you let me handle this while you do your job?”

Jumping like a startled fawn, Lisette made a dive out of her chair towards the spill. “No, sire, I made this mess, I should clean it.”

Arthur stopped her with a glare and a pointed finger. “You, stay right there. Merlin, take care of this. Now, you were about to tell me of the magic you have done.”

Merlin crouched at their feet, picking out the shards of the pitcher and putting them into his kerchief that he’d taken off for that purpose, as he listened to them talk.

“I’ve never done anything big, sire, leastways, not until two days ago. I didn’t think it would work, really, I’ve only ever done small things, like what you saw, mending, mostly. But, I heard the royal procession was to come through our village, and I thought—”

“You purposefully practiced magic upon my person?” Arthur demanded, forgetting that he was trying to be understanding about Lisette’s magic.

“No, no, sire, not on your person…”

“I don’t think I need to tell you that this does not bode well for you. I will not hesitate to detain you for a real trial.”

“Arthur, go easy on her,” Merlin admonished, looking up from somewhere in the vicinity of Arthur’s knee as Lisette began to sob again. Arthur hurriedly quashed the unbidden memory of Merlin, a mischievous smile on his face, hands resting on the insides of Arthur’s thighs.

Reluctant to be seen taking orders from a servant, Arthur grudgingly apologized. “I do not intend to frighten you with my words, but you must understand the seriousness of your crime. Now, please explain exactly what you did.”

Nodding through her tears, Lisette took several deep breaths to get herself back in control. “Two days ago, I went into the forest and stepped into a faerie ring—”

“That was really dangerous!” Merlin broke in, shocked. Arthur knew they were thinking the same thing.

He aimed a half-hearted kick at Merlin’s side. “Shut up, you, and stop interrupting. Continue, Lisette.”

“I swear I asked for nothing evil, sire, I swear. I merely wanted the spirits of the forest to awaken and welcome the royal party to our lands. I didn’t think it would work, it was just an idle girl’s stupid wish, but it did and they even let me join the dance as well.”

Arthur ignored Merlin and the way Merlin was turning bright red, in favor of looking at Lisette closely to judge just how much she knew. She stared back at him guilelessly, so he doubted she’d seen anything of an incriminating nature, but that didn’t stop a flood of his own memories coming rushing back to him.

***

He was in the vanguard, as befitted a prince, but not the first on the trail, as that could have been dangerous. Theirs was a large party, consisting of many knights and their squires, a few diplomats and their servants, and, of course, Merlin. Merlin, who was somewhere towards the rear, most likely complaining under his breath of saddle sores.

Their mission was diplomatic: once a year before midsummer, the royal procession, now led by Arthur rather than Uther, toured the outer edges of the kingdom to ensure that no one forgot whom they served. It was generally a pleasant trip, with many feasts, and dancing, and the odd local wench for the night. Now they were within two days of Camelot, and approaching their last village.

The day was nice, warm but not too warm, the sun filtered through the leaves of the forest and birds sang constantly. The feeling of the party had been relaxed, with much joking and the occasional song. Arthur’d been in a great mood, content, for once, to be exactly where he was. He did wish that it were appropriate for Merlin to ride at the front, so that he could make fun at his expense, but that was a small desire.

Then, somehow, between one step of his charger and the next, everything changed. One moment, Sir Bedevere was telling a rather ribald story practically in Arthur’s ear, and the next, the raucous laughter came as if from a distance and Arthur was alone on the path. He could only think that his horse had taken a step onto a small deer path without him noticing, although that seemed highly unlikely.

When he drew the reins to turn his horse back onto the main pathway, he saw nothing behind him. It was disconcerting to say the least. Before him lay a small, but inviting path. He regarded it with distrust, but knew he would have to take it.

Faintly, he heard someone calling his name and crashing through the undergrowth. With more relief in his voice than he was willing to admit to, he called back, “Hey! Over here!”

In a moment, a slightly out of breath Merlin broke through a particularly reluctant raspberry bush that left him with a thin scratch high on his cheek. He was on foot and looked up at Arthur without saying anything.

“Where is the rest of the procession?” Arthur asked, trying to look behind Merlin, but there was nothing but trees.

“I don’t know, I think it’s magic. I saw you go off into the woods, but no one else seemed to notice. I was able to follow you, but my horse couldn’t get through the trees, so I had to go on foot.”

“I don’t like this, but I think we can only go forward.” 

Arthur leaned down and offered his arm to Merlin so that he could climb up to sit behind him on the horse. Merlin clambered up with his usual lack of grace, almost going over the other side, forcing him to hold on to Arthur’s waist. Arthur didn’t say anything, only rolled his eyes to himself, and urged the horse into a walk.

His horse was remarkably calm, and Arthur was a little surprised at this reaction. He was riding a charger, mostly to impress the villages they rode through, and this stallion was especially known to be hard to handle. In this strange environment, Arthur had expected him to be spooking at anything he could, but instead he walked placidly along, ears pricked forward, gait smooth and relaxed.

It was hard to maintain a suspicious outlook when everything was so pleasant. Arthur found his stern expression slipping every other minute into a small smile. It was just that the light was beautiful in a way he’d never noticed before, and the green of the foliage was a brighter and more vibrant green than he’d ever seen. Birds trilled from every direction, accompanied by a distant tune that he thought he would recognize if only he could hear it clearly.

When the strange music became louder but no more recognizable, Arthur realized that Merlin was humming along under his breath. Arthur turned his head sharply, almost colliding with Merlin’s face. Merlin had his eyes mostly shut, and a quiet smile on his lips. Arthur felt his breath hitch and cleared his throat.

“Stop humming,” he ordered. “This isn’t natural.”

Merlin stopped and opened his eyes to look directly at Arthur. His expression was exasperated, but suspiciously fond. “It may not be natural, but I don’t think it’s necessarily evil. I know you feel it, too.”

Arthur didn’t deign to comment. He turned forward, determined not to allow this place to make him happy, no matter how hard it tried.

The light faded and they were still following the inexplicable track through woods that were becoming less and less familiar, and nothing could stop the thread of unease that wound its way in Arthur’s chest. He had lost track of time; it felt like they had been traveling forever and for no time at all. 

A soft gasp from Merlin had Arthur reaching for the sword at his hip, his back straightening from the drowsy slump that had come into it. Merlin’s arm appeared to his left, pointing off into the trees.

“Look, will o’ wisps,” Merlin said excitedly.

Small lights were twinkling in the darker shadows alongside the path, there for a few seconds, and then gone just as mysteriously. Some bobbed through the trees, almost keeping pace with them, before they too, disappeared. As it became darker, more and more will o’ wisps were visible, and they inadvertently lit the path before Arthur and Merlin, making it possible to keep riding. Arthur grimly thought this was the only good thing about their situation, as he was loath to make camp in what was obviously an enchanted wood.

And yet, it was still beautiful and entrancing. The air had cooled to the extant that it made Arthur welcome the heat of Merlin’s body behind him. The will o’ wisps made the forest mysterious and inviting, like a dream, not dark and threatening. Occasionally, Arthur thought he saw figures darting from shadow to shadow, but he could never be sure if it wasn’t just the dancing of the light from the will o’ wisps. The far-off music persisted, now occasionally punctuated by the soft hoot of an owl or someone laughing, low and happy. Merlin had taken up humming again, but Arthur did his best to ignore his recalcitrant manservant.

This was partly because Merlin seemed to be mostly asleep. At some point he had slumped forward so that he was leaning mostly on Arthur, his hands resting, slightly curled, at the tops of Arthur’s thighs. His head pressed into the juncture of Arthur’s neck and he felt every breath Merlin took on his cheek. 

Arthur might have cared except that with the rocking, soothing, step of his horse he, too, was being lulled to sleep. His eyes drifted shut again and again of their own accord, and it was with great effort that he dragged them open.

When he opened his eyes he thought he saw ethereal men and women riding along all around them, and each time there were more of them. Their clothes glimmered and were extravagantly crafted out of the highest quality silks, with little jewels sewn in. Their skin glowed gently, and they were all of them impossibly stunning. They smiled at him as they rode past, and appeared to be in a gay mood. They called and laughed to each other, but he could never catch their words. 

The music was among them now, someone was playing a flute, but the singers changed arbitrarily, one of the gorgeous people picking up the tune for a verse or two, then the next person took over. They never missed a beat, yet the music didn’t seem planned at all. Still, Arthur could not quite catch the tune.

Arthur wanted to pull his sword out and question these people on just whom they were and just what they thought they were doing with the Crown Prince of Camelot, but he couldn’t summon the energy, nor the will to disrupt such a peaceful scene. Instead, he let his horse follow theirs until the group reached a clearing where there were even more alluring people waiting.

The drowsiness lifted, and both Merlin and Arthur sat up straight on the horse, looking about them. The music was louder, and finally Arthur thought he could place it. He felt Merlin tapping out the rhythm on his thigh. Some of the people were dancing in a ring, while others feasted on sumptuous foods. 

Across the clearing, Arthur met the eyes of the most beautiful woman yet. She was seated on a throne and was so enchanting that Arthur could not look at her directly for long, and later he could not describe her beyond, “the most perfect woman.” She smiled at him, he knew that, and then she was speaking to him.

Greetings, Arthur Pendragon, and welcome to my banquet. Please, avail yourself of all that you find here, but know this: you are here as a boon, but you may not come to one of my banquets ever again unless you do not wish to leave me.

Arthur nodded and inclined his head in respect. “I understand, my lady.”

A draft against his back made Arthur aware that Merlin was being helped down from the horse, fairly enthusiastically, by a few of the faerie folk. Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but hands took hold of him, too, and after that, everything was rather a blur.

There was mead, he knew that, and delicious meats and exquisitely crafted marzipan representations of heroic feats. But mostly, there was dancing, and there was Merlin. Arthur knew the music well, now, and he could sing along as they all wound through the steps of a complicated round dance. They went fast, in and out among each other, exchanging hands and grins until their breath came in pants. 

Each time Merlin was his partner, Arthur noted the expression of pure joy on his face. At some point someone had given Merlin a garland of flowers, and his eyes seemed especially bright and golden. His smile was the widest Arthur had ever seen, and when he matched it with one of his own, he felt like he was agreeing to something, something strong and everlasting.

It was natural, then, to take a break from the dancing to sit against a tree and get their breath back. They slumped against each other, watching the way the light and the dancers played along the clearing, half singing along to the music. Arthur didn’t remember ever feeling so happy before in his life. He wanted this to never end and remembered the faerie Queen’s promise that one day, he could have this forever.

“You’ll come back with me, won’t you, Merlin? Someday?” Arthur asked, tipping his head so that his forehead rested against Merlin’s.

“Of course, Arthur,” Merlin answered, and kissed him.

The kiss was unsurprising, somehow. Arthur cupped Merlin’s jaw and kissed back fiercely, stroking his tongue against Merlin’s. Merlin tasted like mead but also hope. There was some mutual groaning. They slipped down until Arthur was laying in the soft grass, Merlin half on top of him. He worked one hand up Merlin’s tunic to skate along Merlin’s hip.

Soon, their clothes were discarded and they were able to move freely against each other. Arthur was distantly aware that this was impossibly good, better than anything he’d ever done before. Merlin’s mouth was on him and he was quickly losing control. All Arthur could do was lie back, breathing out of his mouth, reaching to hold on to Merlin, and when Merlin entered him, it was perfect. 

Merlin collapsed on his chest. Arthur held him close with an arm wrapped around his back and pressed an exhausted kiss against his temple. Merlin smiled against his collarbone and slept. As Arthur, too, drifted off to sleep, he wished that he could have Merlin always.

***

Waking up was somewhat different. Even through Arthur’s closed lids, the sunlight was blinding and he could already tell that he was going to be stiff and sore. There was a tree root or two digging into his backside that definitely hadn’t been there earlier, and his arm was all pins and needles where Merlin was sleeping on it.

Merlin. Ah, yes. They’d… and then they’d…

Arthur flicked back through his most recent memories, then decided, on second thought, that he didn’t really need to be thinking about that, and simply tried to remember how they’d gotten into such a situation in the first place. He recalled the ride through the woods as if he’d been half-asleep the whole time, and once they’d reached the clearing, everything was a jumbled mess, except, of course, for some highly embarrassing details. He resolved not to dwell on it and focus his energy on getting them both back to the royal procession.

Arthur blinked open his eyes to see the clearing shining with dew. An optimistic and small spider web strung between blades of grass near his face was absolutely festooned with droplets that looked like diamonds. The grass was still preternaturally green, except for the newly made faerie ring, but the chirping of the birds was only the regularly obnoxious type. 

His horse, whom Arthur didn’t remember seeing for most of the night, was calmly ripping up large mouthfuls of the grass a few feet away. He wondered if eating faerie grass was going to change his horse at all.

Then he thought that maybe he would be changed after all the mead and delicacies he’d consumed. Wasn’t it that if you went into a burrow you weren’t supposed to eat anything? But then, he supposed, they hadn’t really gone into a faerie burrow in the first place, and secondly, they’d clearly been left behind. He distinctly remembered the Lady had promised him that it wasn’t until next time they would have to stay. That initial worry quieted, Arthur set himself to discovering slightly more about his immediate situation.

Peering down his nose, Arthur could see the top of Merlin’s messy tangle of hair. It still had one or two sad looking flowers entwined in it. They were both very much naked indeed. Merlin appeared to be sleeping soundly, which annoyed Arthur to no end. If he woke up and announced that he had spent the night exceedingly comfortably, Arthur would probably have to kill him.

“Get off,” Arthur said, and with a heave, deposited Merlin to his side. He sat up, massaging his arm and grimacing as life came back into the limb.

“What?” Merlin asked, still sleep-befuddled. He blinked owlishly and looked around, half-lying in a tangle of limbs that Arthur definitely did not find attractive.

Arthur paid him no heed and went in search of their clothes, hoping they, at least, had been spared the deluge of dew, which was already losing some of its sparkle. The otherworldliness of the clearing was slowly but visibly beginning to fade. It looked significantly smaller, for one thing, except for the faerie ring, which Arthur regarded with mistrust. He could hardly believe that he had helped make it.

He found their clothes draped on the lower branches of the tree they had slept under, and threw Merlin’s at him. Merlin received them to the face as Arthur decided to make himself feel better by not warning Merlin, who was picking flower petals out of his hair. The subsequent spasm was fairly amusing, and Arthur felt his mood improve marginally.

As Arthur was hopping into his trousers, he noticed a few yards away the compressed grass that indicated another figure had slept there. Striding over, he noted that it was just the right size for a large child. He supposed it wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for there to have been more than two human guests at the faerie’s dance, and he hoped that that the child still made an impression on the real world meant that it was still a part of it.

Leaving the manner of the child as something he could do nothing about, Arthur dutifully ignored the question in Merlin’s eyes as he put the bridle back on his horse. The charger threw up his head and was reluctant to leave the grass.

“Come on, you foul beast,” Arthur muttered at the charger before he finally managed to slip the bit into the horse’s mouth, receiving a nice helping of green slobber all over his hand for his pains, which he promptly wiped off on Merlin’s sleeve. This, too, made him feel better.

Merlin rode behind him again as they left the clearing without talking, on the only path available to them, but this time there was no casual contact. Merlin kept himself to himself, and Arthur told himself he was glad that it was obvious they had an understanding.

Faster than was possible, considering the amount of time Arthur was sure they’d been traveling the night before, the sounds of the royal procession began to filter through the trees. There was much laughter.

This struck Arthur as odd. If they thought he was missing, they should have been worried and professional. Soon he could see flashes of the brightly colored finery the knights and their horses were wearing, and Arthur could even hear that Sir Bedevere was finishing the same story he’d started telling the day before.

“…and then the maid said that she’d never seen such a one before!”

Arthur’s horse moved faster, picking up his head and neighing, glad to see the other horses. As they stepped through the last trees separating them from the main trail, Arthur felt Merlin slide off, well, more of a controlled fall, really, before he was being accepted back into the ranks as if nothing had happened. 

No one seemed to notice that he’d been gone for a whole day, and Arthur could almost have felt that he hadn’t been gone, either, if it weren’t for the lurid memories that constantly replayed behind his eyes no matter how hard he tried to stop thinking of them.

Twisting in the saddle, Arthur briefly saw Merlin grinning as he was teased by the other servants, apparently for falling off his horse, an old mare who hadn’t thrown anybody even in her wildest days. Unintentionally, he caught Merlin’s eye, and was a little thrown that Merlin didn’t look near as bewildered as he did about the whole situation.

He told himself not to think of it, they’d been in faerie, those things happened some times, it was no big deal, he was fine, that was all that mattered. He laughed half-heartedly at Sir Bedevere’s antics as someone else started up a new story that would probably involve a similar plot (Arthur’s first inclination was to make a mental note to ask Merlin if they really spent so much time staving off boredom with sex in the country, before he remembered that might be inappropriate in these new circumstances).

And that was the end of that. Well. Sort of. There was the bit where Arthur had pressed Merlin up against the door of the very room that they were all sitting in, still pretending not to notice each other, but that had been after the feasting and dancing in the village square. Arthur wasn’t sure what had compelled him to act in such an untoward manner, and he had no idea how Merlin felt about being ravaged, but either way, once they’d tried to stumble towards the bed, Arthur had proceeded to fall asleep. He wasn’t sure where Merlin had wound up spending the night, but if it was in Arthur’s bed, he’d been gone by the time Arthur had awoken. And that was really the end of it all.

***

“I think…” Arthur said slowly, coming back to himself and his surroundings. He tore his gaze away from the door and refocused on Lisette. She was looking down at her clasped hands, trembling a little. “I think that you need to promise never to call on faeries ever again, to start.”

“I promise, Sire, I swear on my life I will not call on faeries ever again.” Lisette looked up, and there was the beginning of hope in her eyes and Arthur knew he couldn’t condemn her.

“And neither will you talk of anything that you did or saw concerning the faeries you summoned two days ago, or that this discussion took place.”

“I will never mention a word to anyone, Sire, I swear it.”

“Most importantly, you must promise to never willfully practice magic, ever again.”

“I swear, sire,” Lisette said readily enough, but there was a clear hesitation in her voice.

“Never forget the serious danger you put us both in, nor the dire consequences you should have faced for your crimes. You are dismissed.”

Lisette practically flew out of her seat, swept a low curtsy that was surprisingly graceful and ran out of the room. 

Arthur fervently hoped he never saw her again. He leaned back in his chair and passed a hand over his eyes. He felt like his father in a strange way. Or maybe not his father, his father would never have let her go. He had burnt younger girls than Lisette, and he would not have hesitated to burn her. No, he felt like a king, and he didn’t like it.

He could hear Merlin moving about the room, finishing cleaning the destroyed pitcher. He was incredibly aware of Merlin’s presence, the slight breeze his passing created, every rustle of his clothing, step upon the floor. He wanted Merlin, he couldn’t deny that to himself, whatever it was between them was certainly not over, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

“You did the right thing to let her go,” Merlin said abruptly. 

Arthur opened his eyes to consider Merlin’s back, now hunched over a miscellaneous chest at the foot of the bed. “Despite what you may think, I’m not a complete tyrant.”

“I know that. I just… I didn’t realize you felt differently about magic than your father.”

“I don’t,” Arthur said sharply. “But she was young, she deserved a chance to learn. I was hardly going to cause a child to be killed.” Arthur paused, thinking about what Lisette had said concerning her magic. “She said… she couldn’t help it, that she was born with it.”

“Yes, it happens like that, sometimes.”

“I can’t damn someone for being themselves.”

Finally Merlin straightened, and Arthur couldn’t decipher the expression on his face. “That’s good to hear.”

“You’ve been awfully knowledgeable about magic and faeries lately. I don’t think you were even surprised at all when we returned at the same moment we left.”

Merlin’s grin was disarming. “It’s not against the law to read, is it?”

Arthur threw up his hands in despair, standing from his reclined position in his distress. “Merlin, of course it is! Where exactly have you been living these past years? On the moon?”

It would have been interesting to watch Merlin’s face cycle through various expressions as he tried to come up with a suitable lie, if it wasn’t concerning one of the worst crimes it was possible to commit in Camelot. 

“No, in Ealdor, there were a few old books. I think they’ve been destroyed now, though, don’t worry. Also, you know, in the country, they still tell stories…”

Arthur prayed for patience as he bestowed an unimpressed look on Merlin. “I’m going to believe you, Merlin, if only because if you did have any such books in Camelot, it would be very, very, stupid. Although, really, you are one of the most imbecilic people I know…”

Merlin tried a grin again. It worked slightly better the second time around. “Come off it, Arthur, even I’m not that dim.”

Arthur gave Merlin a suspicious look to tell him that he could very well be that dim, but let the subject drop. He was starting to feel uncomfortable, now that it was just him and his manservant …whom he wanted desperately. There was an awkward pause, where they were simply standing, facing each other. Merlin opened his mouth as if to speak, but Arthur turned away, to sit down to his abandoned meal.

It was cold, and he poked at it morosely, feeling rather like a prat for reasons he didn’t understand, or wish to look into. Merlin, who could not leave well enough alone, came and sat down in one of the other chairs. Arthur shot him an annoyed look.

“Oh, it’s cold, isn’t it?” Merlin asked, reaching a hand out. Arthur moved back, away from Merlin. He didn’t trust himself around his own manservant, not anymore. 

“Let me just bring you more?” Merlin said, turning the phrase into a question as he tracked Arthur’s movements.

“No, forget it. I’m going to sleep. We have an early morning tomorrow.” 

Arthur pushed away from the table and stalked towards the bed. He just knew Merlin was looking after him with a hurt expression, and he already regretted acting cold, he just didn’t know what else to do. It was be like this, or pin Merlin to the floor and have his way with him, and that wouldn’t have been appropriate.

He heard Merlin begin to pick up the plates, then let himself out of the room with a soft, “Goodnight.” Arthur gave a nearly inaudible grunt in response, his fingers gripping the hem of his tunic almost hard enough to rip it.

Thus, Arthur spent the night alone, uncomfortably aroused. He tossed and turned and told himself that he should be forgetting whatever had happened, just like he’d ordered Lisette. But every time he tried to forget and go to sleep, he remembered kissing Merlin like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Needless, to say, he did not get much sleep that night.

***

The final ride back to Camelot was tortuous, but Arthur consoled himself with the thought of finally being home again. The royal procession took three weeks, and he was tired of meeting new people and sleeping in inferior beds. There was also the enticing thought of the wine that would be served at the feast in honor of their return. Arthur was tired of feasts, but he relished the idea of letting go of the horrible tension he felt in his shoulders.

His knights responded to his dark mood and either rode by him in silence, or moved away to chat, and even then they kept their voices lowered. Arthur knew there would be furtive speculation as to the cause of his mood, but if they attributed it to a reluctance to be back under his father’s thumb, so be it. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to being told he’d been inadequate.

They reached Camelot an hour before the sun set. The castle was bathed in a russet light, and normally this was Arthur’s favorite view of it. It looked otherworldly and more majestic than usual, but now it just reminded him, like everything else, of the faerie ring and Merlin.

They rode into the courtyard to an expectant and cheerful crowd and were quickly bustled off to their respective rooms for a quick change before the celebration. Arthur was glad that everything was so rushed, as Merlin ran about getting his clothes set out, and he removed what grime he could with a damp washcloth, because it gave him an excuse not to talk to him.

At the feast, Arthur pasted a princely expression on his face as Uther gave the toast. His fingers inched towards his wine goblet, silently entreating his father to hurry up and finish his speech already.

Finally, Uther started to wind down, and placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, his grip strong, as he said, “…to Prince Arthur and Camelot!”

Arthur smiled to the crowd and downed his goblet in one go, tilting his head back to catch the last drop. Morgana, who was seated to his right, raised a perfect eyebrow at him. He ignored her and gestured for his cup to be refilled.

It was Merlin who leaned over him, too close. Arthur could feel the heat of his body. Why, this one time, out of all the feasts, had Merlin been paying attention? Arthur had been counting on Merlin not performing his duties attentively, it was practically a given.

Arthur closed his eyes and turned his face so that Merlin’s shirt only grazed his cheek. When Merlin had retreated, Arthur attacked his goblet once more, although this time he restrained himself to finishing it in three goes rather than one.

“If you don’t slow down, you won’t be able to celebrate later,” Morgana said, watching him.

“Please, for all that is holy, be quiet,” Arthur snapped, not looking at her. He didn’t want to celebrate, he wanted to get stinking drunk.

“If you want my advice—“

“I don’t.”

“You’ll go for it.”

“What?” Arthur followed Morgana’s line of sight towards the side of the hall where Merlin stood laughing with Gwen. “I don’t want your handmaiden.”

Morgana shook her head slowly, smiling. “You are an idiot. I hope one of you gains some sense, and soon, before you drink all the wine in Camelot.”

“There is nothing to go for,” Arthur snarled. “Please stay out of where you’re not wanted.”

Morgana rolled her eyes and declined to speak to him for the rest of the night, for which Arthur was very grateful. He lasted for another four large cups of wine, not his record, but still it was enough. He couldn’t shake his desultory mood, however, and instead of getting louder and more exuberant, as was usual, he became mulish and belligerent.

He wanted to go to his bed, and he didn’t want Merlin to take him there, but he knew he would need help. Rather than face his own manservant, he chose to stay at his place, head propped up with the heel of his hand against his forehead. Others had long ago given up trying to engage him in conversation after receiving variations on, “go away, please,” and most were far less polite than that.

Finally, Merlin took it upon himself to take his prince to bed, sidling up to Arthur’s shoulder once most of the other guests had left, except for a few other drunken sots who might very well spend the night at the table as the servants cleaned up around them.

“Sire, would you like to go to your rooms, now?” Merlin asked quietly.

“Yes,” replied Arthur, but he didn’t move, or even look up at Merlin.

Merlin tried to drag him to his feet anyway, partially succeeding before Arthur gave in to the inevitable and helped. They staggered out of the hall, Arthur leaning most of his weight on Merlin, mostly out of peevishness rather than true lack of coordination. The walk to his chambers seemed to take longer than usual, and all Arthur was aware of was Merlin’s steady breathing and the feel of his shoulders where Arthur was mostly draped over them.

Once in his rooms, Merlin propped Arthur up in a chair and bent down to take off his boots. Arthur gripped the arms of the chair tightly as Merlin’s fingers danced over his calves. He controlled himself as long as he thought he was able before he reached out to shove at Merlin’s shoulder, sending him sprawling.

Merlin looked up from the floor, confused.

“Leave me.” Arthur hung his head, his elbows resting on his knees, his boots half undone.

Merlin picked himself up. “Let me just—“

“Leave me,” Arthur growled, still not looking up.

Merlin left the room without comment, although his silence spoke for him.

Slowly, and with great effort, Arthur finished taking off his boots before crawling onto his bed. He collapsed, face down, and reflected that the drinking hadn’t helped much, if at all. He still wanted Merlin, probably more than ever, denying himself just seemed to make it worse, and to top it off he was going to have a raging headache in the morning.

***

The morning came in due time, along with the promised headache. Arthur found himself still facedown among the pillows, although at some point he’d managed to get under the covers. The light was blinding, and Arthur seriously considered death by pillow.

He groaned, a long, anguished groan, letting his frustration express itself. He continued to lie in the same position, drifting. He could tell by the angle of the sun that it was still early, and he didn’t need to get up any time soon.

The door opened softly before too much time had passed, and the person quietly drew the blinds, enveloping the room in a soft, dim light that instantly made Arthur’s headache recede, if only a little bit.

Arthur would have suspected Merlin to be his mysterious benefactor if it weren’t so out of character. Generally, after a night of overindulgence, Merlin liked to sleep in himself, and when he came in it was with little regard for Arthur’s hangover. He would grin and suggest that this was all Arthur’s own fault. Arthur missed that, and he wished he could let things be like that again, but he knew he didn’t have the self-control.

When he thought about it, he hadn’t properly talked to Merlin before the royal procession. Merlin always maintained a more respectful distance when other nobles were around, so that was the whole tour. And now, they clearly couldn’t return to how they’d been, before. It wasn’t so much that Arthur worried that Merlin regretted the faerie ring, as Arthur would not face his own emotions.

Arthur cracked open an eye to see whomever it was. It was Merlin after all. All this sneaking around, pretending to be an actual, good servant, was starting to weird Arthur out. He didn’t know what to make of the Merlin who was silent and anticipated all his needs.

Arthur considered pretending to be asleep until Merlin left, but Merlin seemed to have an extra sense because he almost immediately came over with a cup of water. Arthur pushed himself nearer a sitting position and accepted the cup without looking at Merlin.

The water was cool and refreshing and Arthur drank steadily from it as he felt his head start to clear. Wordlessly, Merlin refilled his cup until Arthur thought he was coherent enough to deal with the day.

He finally looked up to see Merlin standing next to his bed, looking sick himself. He shifted from foot to foot anxiously, and peered at Arthur as if Arthur was liable to bite his head off at any moment. Well, given the way he’d been acting, Arthur guessed he couldn’t blame him.

“Do you regret letting the girl form the inn go?” Merlin asked abruptly.

“No,” Arthur answered without thinking. And it was true; he’d barely given her a thought since leaving. He’d been a little preoccupied.

“Then, sire, have you changed your mind concerning inborn magic?”

“No…” Arthur was still too hung-over to follow Merlin. What was he blathering on about now?

“Then please tell me, sire, why you do not give me the same treatment as Lisette?” Merlin could not hide a note of anguish in his voice, and Arthur looked at him closely.

“Wait, what?” Arthur asked, now completely lost.

Merlin brought his hands up, but didn’t seem to know what to do with them. He made a frustrated noise before breaking out with, “My magic, my magic!”

Arthur blinked. “You have magic?”

Merlin blinked back at him, going white. “You didn’t know?”

“Exactly when was I supposed to have figured it out?”

“When I found you on the faerie path, when I was unsurprised that we returned at the same time we left, when I knew so much about Lisette’s magic!”

“Oh.” Arthur reflected, but he still didn’t really see how he was meant to have known from such a random assortment of clues. He frowned. This changed things. How was he going to explain away his odd behavior now?

“Sire?” Merlin prompted, and Arthur remembered that Merlin’s life hung in his hands. Probably best to pretend like he wasn’t surprised.

“You’re clearly an idiot for coming to Camelot, but if you don’t use your magic then I don’t see any problem,” Arthur said airily, doing his best to act normally, hoping that Merlin wouldn’t next ask him what had been actually causing his bad mood.

“Thank you, sire,” Merlin said slowly, a little bewildered and lost, but Arthur took it as a good sign that he was feeling better that he then proceeded to wander out of the room without asking Arthur if there was anything else he required.

Arthur spent the rest of the day lounging about with his knights, attempting to avoid Merlin without looking like he was avoiding Merlin. He was determined to act as usual with Merlin, but it was proving harder than he’d thought. 

***

Now that things were supposedly all right between them, Merlin had gone back to helping him dress, bringing him meals, and generally being there all the time. All the time, that was, that Arthur didn’t want something. The second Arthur considered that he might be lacking in some regard, Merlin was nowhere to be found. And he kept touching Arthur, completely nonchalantly; as if he didn’t even remember the other ways they’d touched each other. 

Frankly, it was driving Arthur insane, to be so close to the object of his desires and still unable to act. Arthur was still tamping down on the urge to place the pads of his fingers on the nape of Merlin’s neck, right where the hair curled in on itself, and he was still closing his eyes and taking deep, slow, breaths every time Merlin leaned over him. 

Luckily for Arthur, Merlin didn’t seem to realize anything was wrong. The unnatural promptness and neatness had disappeared and he had completely reverted back to his crap manservant ways.

When they were alone in his rooms together, Arthur meticulously evaluated his every movement for its normalcy factor. Had he always sat in the chair like this and watched Merlin move about, presumably tidying things up, but really just randomly moving objects around, because it felt natural to sit leaning back with his legs a bit spread, as if his body was used to it, but it all seemed very sexual all of a sudden. But maybe he was just paranoid. It was quite exhausting, and that was the only reason Arthur had for why he said what he did.

“Show me your magic.”

Merlin stilled from where he was by the window, cradling a small statue of a dragon that some Lord Very Important or other had gifted Arthur, and ostensibly dusting the sill. He looked at Arthur, his mouth open a little. Arthur, in lieu of thinking about kissing him, found himself spouting more madness.

“Make the statue come to life.”

Merlin looked down at the stone dragon as if he’d never seen it before, turning it slightly in his hand. It was exquisitely crafted, each feature picked out in detail. It was depicted rampant, with wings half-extended and the tail spread out behind for balance. Arthur was surprised that Merlin seemed to actually be contemplating it before he snapped back to himself and said, crossly, “No, I’m not performing magic in your father’s castle just for your amusement.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Well, all right then, we’ll go hunting. Get my gear packed.”

“Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed exasperatedly. “It’s almost dark, I’m not going hunting with you at night, you’ll certainly shoot me.”

“Besides the fact that we won’t be doing any real hunting, I would never shoot you unless it was on purpose. But never mind, we’ll go first thing in the morning.”

Merlin sighed and generally acted very put-upon, but soon left without putting up much more resistance besides the nearly requisite complaints about getting everything ready, leaving Arthur to a quiet panic attack.

What, exactly, had he just done? He’d just committed treason was what he’d just done. True, he’d never been exactly what you could call completely obedient to his father, but magic was his father’s main obsession and therefore a rather bigger deal than the other thing’s he’d done.

And on top of that, he was going to have to be alone with Merlin for an extended period of time which was never good because the more he was around Merlin, the more he thought of touching him inappropriately. This supposed hunting trip could not end well, but he couldn’t see a way out of it that wouldn’t make Merlin suspicious. Merlin had a habit of being suspicious for all the wrong reasons while still getting to the correct ones.

***

Merlin came to Arthur’s rooms the next morning, still yawning extensively, just as Arthur was getting up. They got him ready together, not speaking much. Merlin closed his eyes and appeared to relapse into sleep across the table as Arthur ate his breakfast. Arthur, despite telling himself very sternly not to, took the opportunity to study the way Merlin’s dark lashes rested against his pale skin, how his long fingers relaxed delicately.

They rode out and Arthur led them towards a wood not far away, but seldom occupied because it was mostly useless. It was too small to have any good game, there wasn’t even a stream through it, but it provided enough cover for magic.

Arthur dismounted in a small clearing and turned to Merlin expectantly, who was still astride his horse. He quelled his feelings of awkwardness. He was simply going to ask for a demonstration, and then they were going to go back to Camelot, simple as that.

“I’ve never used my magic for evil,” Merlin said unexpectedly, looking down at Arthur.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Well, of course not. You’re too—wait. Are you implying that you’ve been consistently using magic?”

“Yes, but only for good,” said Merlin and he looked like he was becoming even more reluctant to get down.

“Clearly it’s a miracle that you haven’t been found out, before. Do I want to know what you’ve been doing with it?” Arthur cursed his stupid idea. He’d never meant to become so involved.

“Just saved your life a few times,” Merlin said airily, trying to make it seem like nothing.

Arthur despaired. “Get off that horse and come tell me exactly what you’ve been doing.”

Merlin took that order to mean that he could still keep the horse between them, but Arthur quickly dissuaded him of that notion with a strong grip on his upper arm. He sat them down under a nearby tree and listened carefully as Merlin unenthusiastically explained events that Arthur had really never been able to satisfactorily account for to himself but had mostly put down to head injuries.

When Merlin finished he looked down at where his hands were playing with bits of moss. “This changes things, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly.

Arthur was forced to admit that yes, it did. “But I’m not going to tell my father, I give you my word.”

That got him a shaky smile, and Arthur found that he was inordinately pleased by that. He really, really wanted to cup Merlin’s jaw and tell him that everything was going to be fine, but he settled for a manly pat on the shoulder.

“So, let’s see what you can do.” Arthur cursed himself. He desperately needed to stop requesting to see Merlin’s magic as a way to get out of awkward situations. He didn’t really want to see any magic; it gave him the creeps, especially now that he knew how many times it had been used against him.

Merlin gave him a look as if he couldn’t quite believe that Arthur actually wanted to see anything, (he knew Arthur too well), but he sighed and raised his hand. By saying something in a language Arthur vaguely recognized from his half-forgotten studies, Merlin made one of his saddlebags begin to bulge and wriggle. Arthur looked between it and Merlin, who seemed to feel a little uncomfortable under Arthur’s gaze but otherwise completely as usual. Except for his eyes, which were gold.

Arthur almost got completely distracted from the magic (which he didn’t understand, anyway, what was so great about making a saddle bag move?) in favor of staring at Merlin’s eyes. Merlin blinked several times self-consciously. He twitched his hand again, and something landed in Arthur’s lap.

Arthur may have jumped, a little, but he certainly didn’t scream like a girl, no matter what Merlin was gasping between giggles. The stone dragon from before had landed in his lap and was crawling around, very lifelike. It even peered up at him and made a sound like stone grating on stone. Arthur tentatively approached it with a finger, which it nuzzled and then attempted to nibble on with needle-like teeth.

“Ouch!” Arthur exclaimed and withdrew his finger to suck on it. Merlin found this even more hilarious. He had gotten over his initial nervousness and now all Arthur could see was the joy in his golden eyes at being able to do what so clearly came naturally to him.

The dragon began climbing up Arthur’s leather jerkin, its claws leaving tiny pinprick holes. Arthur watched it, slightly warily. He didn’t need it nibbling on his ear.

At this, Merlin broke out into honest laughter. “You should see yourself! You look like a maiden with a spider!”

“I do not! Take that back!” Arthur lunged for Merlin, unseating the dragon and causing it to flap unsteadily a few feet away. Arthur stared after it, leaning over a semi-reclined Merlin. Merlin laughed in his face.

Arthur had wrestled Merlin so that he was completely under him before he remembered that this was why he tried to keep his distance. But it was too late, Merlin was still laughing, and his smile was so genuinely happy in a way Arthur realized he hadn’t seen since… that night, and he was trying to wrestle back which was just ridiculously endearing.

Arthur allowed Merlin to roll them over, only for the enjoyment of using his legs to completely flip them again. Merlin let his breath out in an oof, right in Arthur’s face, and then they were smiling at each other, their legs hopelessly entangled.

It was a mutual meeting of lips, Arthur decided later. He didn’t really remember making up his mind to kiss Merlin, he just was and it was brilliant. He brought his hand up to bracket Merlin’s face and threaded his fingers through Merlin’s hair. Merlin entwined his arms more firmly about Arthur.

“Took you long enough,” Merlin murmured between leisurely kisses.

Arthur pulled back far enough that he wouldn’t go cross-eyed trying to look at Merlin. “What?” he managed. “You’ve wanted this all along?”

“Well, maybe not so much when I was afraid you were going to have my head cut off,” Merlin said easily.

Merlin laughed at Arthur’s gaping expression and shifted his leg so that they were groin to groin, which really did nothing for Arthur’s look. Merlin kissed him again.

“What is it about getting out of the castle that makes you relax?” Merlin asked.

“You’re not going to be a talker, are you?” Arthur asked suspiciously, but Merlin merely smiled and kissed him again, which did not assuage Arthur’s fears in the least. Not that he minded.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this originally on my old livejournal and a livejournal group for Arthur/Merlin, I'm sure, but to be honest I don't remember/am too lazy to look up what it was called.


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